Well if my New Years weekend is any indication, 2006 is basically going to be just as messy as 2005.
Friday
Since it was the night before New Years Eve, the plan was for a quiet night playing Scrabble and maybe some wine and food. So one might wonder how I ended up at a McDonald's at 2.30am with a chicken mcnugget happy meal. I, unfortunately, couldn't tell you.
Saturday
A nice long boozy dinner, and then an awesome house party where I did my usual party trick of drinking too much and then talking about myself all night. Always a hit.
Sunday
New Years Day was ridiculously hot, so in order to avoid sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish market, I had to spend most of the day lying on my bed mostly naked and trying not to move at all. After a nap, I managed to rally for a few hours of drinking on Oxford Street before giving up and heading home to collapse for 10 hours.
And there you have it. It's a rough life. Must head to beach. In speedos.
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3 comments:
I hate to say it, but I think for once you were tamer than me. That is, unless you managed to say 50 times "No, it's OK for me to tell racists jokes because my black friend told them to ME."
"For once"?? Listen babe, I'm not sure where or when you got this distorted vision of yourself, but I think I need to remind you that your average night out seems to include 7 bars, someone making out, someone crying, someone yelling, and dancing to awful european dance music. You're at least on my level, and considering how well behaved I've been in this country, I think you surpass me on a regular basis these days.
And don't worry, I found two new people who didn't know all my racist jokes on New Years and told them all. And didn't defend myself when someone was totally appalled, even though many people here seem to think there's a good chance I'm just a racist with a tan, and not actually part black.
Um, yes, well, that appears to have been true up until recently when the biggest excitement in my work-driven life was when we got a new vacuum at the store and I literally rode it around and swung the cord like a lasso and kept shouting "woo-hoo" until I realized there were customers. So, you see, I've been rather lame these days, unlike the Speedo King from Down Under who you can always count on for eleventy drinks on a Tuesday and twice as many racist jokes.
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